


Man Buns And Push-Ups

by nonbinaryjamesbarnes (kittleimp)



Series: Falling Is Only Natural [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Apologizing For The Aforementioned Ableism Profusely, First Meetings, Gyms, Locker Room, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Clint Barton, War Veteran Natasha Romanov, War Veteran Sam Wilson, War Veteran Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 15:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5253398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittleimp/pseuds/nonbinaryjamesbarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is accidentally a huge, insensitive jerk and as a result, he almost gets beat up by an angry amputee in a gym locker room. It just isn't his day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man Buns And Push-Ups

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get the idea out of my head, so I hope you all enjoy. <3
> 
> Much love to [Sophie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WeMightAswellBeStrangers/pseuds/MapsWindsor) for betaing this for me!

Despite the fact that everyone he knows _lives_ to brag about their workout routines, Steve will always believe that going to the gym is not about showing off.

Steve goes on his daily runs because they’re a great way to stay in shape and wake up in the morning, not because he has some absurd need to prove that he can run a few miles and barely break a sweat, despite the fact that he’s entering his thirties. Not to mention, hearing Sam’s exasperated complaints when Steve beats his time yet again doesn’t exactly feel _bad_ or anything. A bit of healthy competition never hurt anyone.

The local gym is a different matter entirely, though. Something about working out at the gym seems to drive people beyond good-natured competitiveness, and into the realm of aggressive intensity. Twice a week, when he and his friends take advantage of the gym’s extensive collection weight lifting machines, he finds himself faced with a room that reeks of sweat and is filled with men trying to lift as much as possible, do as much as possible, as fast as possible.

How the hell they haven’t all ended up in the emergency room is a constant source of wonder.

On the rare occasion that one of the female gym patrons decides to brave the testosterone-soaked space, Steve finds them to be much more fun to work out with. They sometimes take offense to his offers to spot for them, believing that he is trying to insult them, but he doesn’t mind explaining himself. It isn’t like he can blame them, given their typical experiences in the weight room.

Not all of them give him time to explain, though, and that’s always a little disappointing. Sometimes they respond with nothing more than a sharp glare or a curt refusal, shutting him down before he has chance to explain. It always leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth. The last thing he wants is to accidentally offend them. Then again, their reactions could be much worse.

“Hey Nat, remember the first time we met?” Steve says with a grin, interrupting yet another argument between Sam and Clint. They always end up bickering about something when the four of them carpool to the new gym they have been using since they were thrown out of the old one.

“Of course I do,” she replies, matching his grin with a smirk of her own. “I think that was probably the best punch I’ve ever thrown.”

“Yeah, for the dumbest reason I’ve ever heard. Who punches a guy just because he offers to help her out?” Sam adds with a quirk of his brows as he shoves the front doors of the gym open, letting all of them in so they can scan their cards at the front desk.

“Are you sure you want to get into this again?” Clint asks before Natasha can speak up to defend herself.

“Relax, Clint, we’ve made our peace with it. Besides, I didn’t break his face, I just gave him a nice, big shiner,” Natasha sticks around just long enough to hear Steve’s soft chuckle before disappearing into the women’s locker room with her lips still stretched into her signature smirk.

That first day had ended with all four of them perching on the curb outside of a nearby 7/11 after being firmly evicted from the gym. When security had showed up, Clint and Sam were second away from coming to blows in defense of their friends, so they ended up with their memberships revoked as well. All four of them had to find a new gym to work out at.

Natasha apologized for the overreaction by buying them all ice cream from the 7/11, along with an ice pack to hold to Steve’s quickly bruising eye. They’d been friends ever since.

By the time that Steve, Clint, and Sam manage to get changed and out of the locker room, Natasha is already waiting for them with crossed arms and an amused smirk. She’s spent her wait scoping out Steve’s potential partners, no doubt, considering that she has taken on the nearly impossible task of fixing Steve’s miserable love life.

“Check out the guy doing bicep curls, three o’clock,” she whispers to him.

Steve casts his eyes subtly to the right as he follows her to the nearest machine. Sure enough, there is a man with just a touch of stubble over his jaw working out his right arm. The muscles are not what catch Steve’s attention, though they don’t hurt the guy’s image. Steve is more interested in the determined set of the man’s jaw, which is brushed with just enough stubble to give him an edgy, rough look. Whoever this stranger is, he is there for a reason. Handsome, driven, and all too tempting, especially considering the fact that, despite Natasha’s best efforts, Steve isn’t actively looking for a relationship.

“I’m digging the bun,” Steve replies sarcastically, avoiding a deeper analysis. It’s not a lie; the man’s dark brown hair is pulled back neatly and held in place with a black hairband.

“Hot, right?” Natasha teases, finishing tying her own hair up. “I know how you dig those hipster types.”

Hipsters tend to annoy Steve in much the same way that people who brag about their workout do. They try so hard to be cool and boast about how unique they are, but they just conform to a different standard, all the while claiming that they are better than everyone else. He would never even suggest such a thing, but each time he sees them, he wishes he could go up and cut their annoying little “man buns” right off of their heads. Maybe they’d finally listen and stop pretending to be so special.

“Come on, you’re supposed to be working out,” Steve prods, waving Natasha into the seat of the machine while he adjusts the weight for her.

Each of his friends has different limits and specialties when they’re working out, but Steve has memorized every detail of their routines. Natasha is a sprinter, so she hates running more than a mile at a time, but she is happy to race. She can lift more than Clint, who would rather just run a few miles and call it a day. The only reason he comes to the gym is to keep his friends company. Sam is a distance runner and can lift far more than Natasha can, but she doesn’t let that get her down. She’s teaching him some fighting techniques, so she can just spar with him if she ever needs a confidence boost. Steve can match any of them, thanks to his hard work and luck in the puberty lottery. Sure, it hadn’t hit until he was almost out of high school, but when it did, it hit him harder than a train.

“Steve, you need to see this,” he hears Nat murmur quietly from the front of the machine. When he finishes setting the weight, he steps back over and follows her line of sight.

Mr. Man Bun is doing one-armed push-ups.

“I’m so sick of seeing people show off with those fancy push-ups,” Steve mutters, almost a bit disappointed. Even if he’s not looking for a guy, it’s a shame to see someone so handsome fit the predictable mold of the holier-than-thou hipster jerks he avoids at all costs.

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, however, the guy glances over and fixes Steve with a pointed look. Those blue eyes pierce him to the core. A horrified flush blooms over Steve’s cheeks as he realises he’s been caught making such an assholish comment, but before he can backtrack or apologize, the guy lowers himself to his stomach and rolls onto his back to start doing crunches. The new angle gives Steve and Natasha a perfect view of the stump that the man has in place of a left arm.

“Shit,” Natasha whispers sharply.

Steve can’t even manage words. Shame burns hotly in his throat and churns his stomach into knots. His mother must be spinning in her grave with the knowledge that her son said something so rude and thoughtless. It is only then that Steve notices the familiar silver chain around the other man’s neck with charms tucked under his shirt making a distinctive clang as the knock together. _Dog tags_. A veteran.

“I don’t feel like working out today,” Steve says immediately, not bothering to look back at Natasha as he walks away from the machine.

“Go ahead, I’ll keep it light. We’ll meet you in the lobby,” Natasha calls after him quietly, all too in-tune with the guilt clouding Steve’s expression.

Steve is quick to disappear into the locker room, trying to change out of his gym clothes and pack his things into his bag before the guy he insulted finishes his work out. Even though he skips a shower thanks to the fact that he never started sweating in the first place, he only has time to pull on his boxers before the door swings open and the man storms in. It takes him exactly two seconds to find Steve where he is standing by the row of lockers.

“You’re a real jackass, you know?” the man snaps, stalking towards Steve. “You ever think that maybe some people have a reason for doing ‘fancy push-ups’?”

“I-”

“You know what _I’m_ sick of?” he asks sharply, cutting Steve off before he can stutter out an apology. “I’m sick of entitled assholes like you and your friend out there thinking you can judge me before you even know me. I’m a fucking _sergeant_ and I don’t deserve your shit.”

The heated air between them doesn’t dissipate, but the man stops spitting barbed words long enough to catch his breath. Steve takes advantage of the temporary silence.

“I didn’t think. It never even occurred to me that there could be a reason and I’m sorry. Truly, I am. You’re right; you don’t deserve that,” Steve replies truthfully, trying to pack as much emotion into the words as he can. His vocabulary isn’t big enough to explain the feeling of guilt and regret burning away at him.

“Yeah, well... remember that next time,” the stranger retorts, but the angry fire is gone from his voice. Steve’s immediate willingness to apologize is like water over the flames.

They barely meet each other’s eyes for a split second before the eye contact is too awkward to maintain. Steve is acutely aware that he is more than half naked in the empty locker room in front of this stranger, who is both sweaty and extremely attractive. If only he hadn’t fucked up so badly earlier.

“For the record,” the man mutters, his voice softer now that his anger has passed. “I don’t let strangers cut my hair anymore. It’s... I don’t like it. It’s this or cut it myself, and at that point I might as well shave it all off.”

“You should talk to my friend, Sam. He works at the V.A.,” Steve suggests tentatively.

“Oh?”

Steve nods, “He specializes in helping people with PTSD, even runs a support group. That’s how we got to know each other in the first place.”

“You served?” the man asks, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“Captain Steve Rogers, special operations,” he confirms with a small smile, holding out his hand.

“Sergeant James Barnes, 107th. Call me Bucky,” the man says, returning the smile and taking Steve’s hand in his own to give it a firm shake.

“All of us out there have served, actually,” Steve continues, reaching down to grab his jeans now that the tense air has dissipated. “Natasha and Clint were special ops too, but they were a different division. Sam was pararescue.”

“You find them by insulting them too?” Bucky jokes, his smile twitching into a smirk.

Steve laughs, “Actually, kind of. I offered to spot for Nat while she was lifting. She didn’t take me up on the offer and decided to use my face as a punching bag instead.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head, but he seems to have moved past being completely offended at Steve’s mere existence, so that has to be a plus. It’s the way his smile widens when he laughs that has Steve’s next words out of his mouth before he thinks them through.

“You’re welcome to join us for drinks tonight,” he offers, realizing belatedly that he actually has no clue if his friends would be fine with Bucky joining them. All the same, Bucky’s smile makes his heart beat fast enough to drown out that little detail.

“Sounds like fun,” Bucky agrees, reaching into his duffle for what Steve assumes is his phone.

It isn’t his phone.

Before he can register what’s happening, Bucky is stepping in close and pushing Steve’s arm against the locker. His heart trips in his chest at the closeness of the other man, but the instinct to defend himself is dampened when he feels the firm press of a felt-tip marker pushing against his skin. When Bucky finally steps away, Steve is left feeling strangely disappointed, and with black ink scribbled messily over the inside of his forearm.

“Text me the details,” Bucky says with a wink.

By the time Steve picks his jaw up off of the floor, Bucky is already gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking prompts and visitors on [tumblr](http://summerpacifist.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
